


Hate

by Middle_Earth_Mama



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Face Slapping, Floor Sex, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Insults, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Spanking, Spit As Lube, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Middle_Earth_Mama/pseuds/Middle_Earth_Mama
Summary: "He hated the damned elf. Hated him with every fiber of his very being.Thranduil had captured them in Mirkwood. After having been dragged off and wrapped in spiders silk. Everyone knew the elves would have had no chance of overpowering he and his company if it weren't for those accursed arachnids.Now here Thorin stood, at the Elf Kings mercy."Dub-Con if you squint. But just in case that makes you squeamish, you've been warned. Let me know if I missed any tags!





	Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh. Forgive me, I had to.  
> Enjoy!

He hated the damned elf. Hated him with every fiber of his very being. 

Thranduil had captured them in Mirkwood. After having been dragged off and wrapped in spiders silk. Everyone knew the elves would have had no chance of overpowering him and his company if it weren't for those accursed arachnids. 

Now here Thorin stood, at the Elf Kings mercy. After spending the last how many years of his life in exile, fighting for his people. Working for far less than he was worth to feed them. Leading them all across Arda in search of a safety. And finally, when he decided to win back their mountain, their home, for the honor of all dwarves, of his father and grandfather, and for his own honor, this prancing prick had swooped in and shit all over his plans like an angry pigeon. A pretty, angry pigeon, but a pigeon none the less. 

Thorin scowled mutinously at the fair haired fool before him.  
“I will not extend this offer again,” Thranduil said coolly, adjusting his long legs to cross at the ankles while he inspected his hand carelessly. 

“And I will not accept these terms. I will not hand over something you have no right to, for our freedom you had no right to take in the first place!” Thorin's booming voice echoed through the throne room, leading to the muttering of the elves surrounding them.

“Silence!” Thranduil's gaze swept pointedly across his subjects, the precarious hold on his patience wavering just a little. “Leave us.”

The surrounding guards spared no time and quickly dispersed. Their movements unnerved Thorin, far too swift and silent for his liking. He felt a cold chill at the suddenly charged air as he realized he and the king of the elves were alone. There would be no witnesses. No witnesses to.... well whatever the elf had in store for him. 

Not that he was afraid.

Thranduil slid from his ridiculously ornate throne like a snake from a tree. He slowly began circling Thorin, hands clasped behind his back, and glared down his nose at the supposed king of dwarves. 

Thorin was sure not to allow the involuntary flinch as his enemy circled his back. He continued glaring defiantly at the absurdly infuriating sprite. 

“Those jewels,” Thranduil began, his voice a dangerous whisper, “were promised to my wife, long ago.”  
“And your wife is dead now. What use have you of them? Or did you wish to wear them yourself like an overstuffed queen of trees?”

Thranduil had stopped his circling and stood rigid at Thorin's back. He closed his eyes and took a quavering breath in an attempt to keep himself from wringing Thorin's neck right then and there.

“I only want that which I am owed, son of Thrain. Or are you such a self assured son of an orc that honor means nothing to you?”  
“That's rich coming from a tree shagging, pointy eared orc wife! Tell me, was that son of yours birthed by an orc himself?”

Thranduil could not contain his temper any longer. He grabbed Thorin up by the front of his tunic and pulled him dangerously close to his face.  
“Do not,” he hissed, “speak of my son. And, might I ask you, was your sister a lover of elves? For your nephews have some features that look nearly.... dainty, for a dwarf!”

“How dare you!” Thorin snarled back.  
“Oh yes, I suppose it would figure that only your sister would be brave enough to bed an elf.” Thranduil tightened his grip on the dwarf's tunic and pulled him even closer so their noses were touching. “It is well known our stamina in the bedroom would be far too much for the usual quick romps of the dwarves. I hear they leave much to be desired.”

Thorin knew he should let that one go. The level Thranduil was taking this to was better left unexplored. But at this point, the pride of his people was at stake. And Thranduil was clearly challenging him. Thorin Oakenshield never stepped down from a challenge. What else could he do? He pressed his lips roughly against the elven king's, biting his lip viciously. Thranduil moved his hands to the back of Thorin's head and kissed back, equally as furious. 

Oh oh oh what was happening!? Dwarf and elf pulled away at the same time and leveled each other with matching hateful scowls, lips raw and red.

After an endless stare down of panting flustered kings, Thorin finally moved. He reached down and began unlacing his trousers, eyes never leaving Thranduils. The elf's eyes bulged a bit as he realized Thorin was accepting his challenge, or at least pretending to. 

How interesting. 

Thranduil raised his chin a bit as if daring Thorin to continue. When the dwarf stood before the king, bare and obviously aroused, he dipped his head and glared up and Thranduil challengingly. Thranduil nodded. He removed his crown of decorated sticks and set it delicately on his throne, then began removing his robes. 

The sight of the elf's unmarred skin was off-putting to the dwarf, slender graceful limbs wrapped in pale almost translucent flesh was like nothing Thorin had ever seen. He couldn't help the sudden urge to bruise and mar that flawless creamy complexion. To spread his seed over the perfection of the haughty, cocky elf. 

They moved in tandem. Their bodies crashed together, shoving each other as they fell onto the stone floor. They rolled once or twice, legs entangled and fingers laced in a fight for control over the other, knees and elbows scraping over the merciless stone floor. When they landed, Thranduil knelt over Thorin, their hands locked at the sides of Thorin's head, and Thranduil's knees between Thorin's legs. 

“I have never allowed another to take me before, and I do not intend to start with you!” the elf spat.  
“I could say the same,” Thorin replied.  
“It does not seem that is to be your decision to make,” Thranduil said cockily.  
“Is it not?” 

Thranduil's size had nothing on Thorin's strength. He easily flipped the elf onto his back and before Thranduil could blink, their places had been switched. Thranduil fought half heartedly as Thorin flipped him roughly over onto his stomach, then he went still as a hot throbbing hardness nestled against his skin. 

“You do not think to take me dry, do you?”  
“Fun as it would be to watch you writhe in pain at my mercy, no. I do not.” 

Thranduil cringed as he heard the dwarf behind him spit callously into his hand, then he flinched as a wet finger worked its way between his cheeks. 

“Crass.”

Thorin grinned to himself. Crass was he? He moved down the elf's back, grabbing his cheeks and spreading them so he could run his tongue over Thranduil's crack. The reaction was immediate. Thranduil let out an undignified yelp and squirmed under Thorin's hands.

“You're disgusting!” the elf yelled over his shoulder.  
“Prude,” Thorin grunted with a grin.

Then, he was spitting into his hand again, this time coating his cock in a generous amount of saliva, before rubbing the tip against Thranduil's opening, then unceremoniously slamming it home. 

Thranduil thrashed under the broad dwarf's body, his own struggling to adjust to the intrusion. Thorin lay himself against alabaster skin and grabbed the elf's silky hair. He yanked the elf's head back to kiss him, much to Thranduil's disgust.

“I know where your tongue has been! You are vile!”

Thorin just laughed and moved his mouth lazily over oddly smooth skin until his lips rested against a pointed ear. 

“Stop struggling. It will ease the pain if you relax,” Thorin whispered as he flicked his tongue teasingly against the tip of Thranduil's strange ear. The elf shuddered pleasantly. 

Ah, he had found a weak point.  
Thorin concentrated his efforts on a pleasant assault of the elf king's ear, making Thranduil quake and twitch beneath him.

“Are you going to finish this at any point in the near future, or do I need to take over for you?” Thranduil sounded aroused, though his voice was dripping with disdain as he further challenged the dwarf on his back. 

“Oh, I would be happy to finish this, although it was you who suggested that dwarves could not outlast elves, therefore, I did not intend for this to be quick or easy.”

Thorin rolled his hips and Thranduil's breath caught as he was overcome with equal parts pain and pleasure at the movement. Thorin began thrusting his hips in earnest, setting a steady, but slow pace.

“Is that the best you can do, oh king under the mountain?”  
Thorin growled and tightened his hand on the elf's hair, pulling harder as he picked up speed and pressure. Thranduil groaned in appreciation and arched his pretty back, spurring Thorin on. 

“Tell me, Great King of tree shaggers, what would your subjects think of you being taken by a dwarf?” Thorin jeered.  
“That would depend on how long the dwarf can last,” Thranduil snarled back.  
“That would be hearsay, as there are no witnesses, but all will witness you limp through your own kingdom on the morrow!” 

Thorin's thrusts picked up mercilessly, sweat collecting between his tensed shoulders and his breathing becoming more labored. The heat was all encompassing, and the thrill of taking his rival on the floor in front of his own throne sent a shiver through the dwarf that he could not ignore. Thorin's rhythm staggered as his peak began to hit, his hips stuttering as he roared in completion, pulling a hand away and swinging it harshly back against Thranduil's ass with an audible slap.

Thranduil sighed. “Was that really necessary?”  
Thorin smirked. “My hand has left its mark there, and here,” he squeezed the already bruised hip in front of him, “and you will think of this moment every time you see those bruises on your skin.” 

Thorin pulled back and flopped backwards onto the floor, panting softly. Thranduil rose, cock still hard and hair ruffled, and turned to assess the dwarf.

“Well, that only proves my theory on dwarf stamina,” he said hotly.  
“I only wanted the pleasure of marring your flesh,” Thorin chuckled.

“And now it's my turn,” Thranduil said with a smirk as he quickly took advantage of Thorin's post coital haze, flipping the dwarf over. He grabbed one of Thorin's wrists, pinning it to the small of his back as he used his other hand to pull the dwarf's hips up a bit. 

Thorin didn't fight it. He had known this would probably happen, and he didn't mind as long as he was first. Now he was a bit relieved to have the overheated skin of his chest against the cool stone. He grimaced when he felt hardened flesh against his opening. The elf even had even managed to spit on himself without making any lewd noises. 

The sprite really was a prude. 

The pressure of a spit slick cock sliding into him shook him from his personal narrative. He clenched for a moment, despite his best efforts, but quickly managed to regain his composure as the elf worked his way in.

“Are you not even going to try to get away from me?” Thranduil asked mockingly.  
“And would it do any good?”  
“It would for me,” Thranduil rolled his hips in a series of steady thrusts.

Thorin rolled his eyes. Of course it would. He decided he would not be giving the elf the satisfaction of struggling. He strove to remain perfectly still, smirking to himself as Thranduil let out a groan of frustration.

“This will never end if you don't at least make it a challenge,” the elf taunted, “or do you often hand over power to your betters, dwarf?”

Thorin growled. He knew Thranduil was only trying to goad him into giving the elf what he wanted. But he couldn't resist the flames of fury the elf's words ignited. He placed his one hand on the floor beneath him and pushed them both off the ground, causing Thranduil to slip out and fall against the dwarf's muscular back with an indignant “Oof!”

“You want me to fight, you say?” Thorin asked dangerously.  
Thranduil didn't respond. He was too busy trying to spit his own hair out of his mouth. Thorin took it as an affirmative and easily threw the elf off his back and straddled him on the floor, pinning his hands above his head.

“And how, pray tell, is this going to help you reach your climax faster?” Thorin asked mockingly.

Thranduil struggled against the dwarf king's vice like grip and sputtered a bit.  
“I did not expect you to over throw me, just give me a little challenge,” he spat.

Thorin quirked an eyebrow. “Didn't want me to lay limp like an elvish whore? Is that why you challenged me? Getting tired of easy elf sluts?”

Thranduil scowled and struggled harder, his blood beginning to boil.

“I wonder, Thranduil,” Thorin leaned in to sneer in the elf king's face, “was your wife a cold fish in bed as well?”

Thranduil's eyes blazed with fury. He kicked out and upended the still laughing Thorin and pinned his wrists above his head with one hand and took his cock up with the other. He was shaking in his rage as he slammed himself into the dwarf and began a punishing pace. To his ire, the dwarf was still laughing.

“What's the matter, Thranduil? Did I strike a nerve through that icy facade?” Thorin mocked.

The responding slap sent Thorin's head reeling, it's blow tossing his hair over a momentarily shocked face. After regaining his composure, he leered at the elf above him and spat directly into that self satisfied face. Thranduil's rage was apparent as he wiped the offending fluid from his eye and he threw those slender hands around Thorin's throat.

Thorin grasped the hands that held him fast and he was able to keep the elf from crushing his windpipe. 

“Is that- the best- you can do, elf?” Thorin gasped out around ragged broken breaths, mirroring Thranduil's earlier words.

Thranduil grit his teeth and pounded into the dwarf harder, his hands squeezing ever more urgently at Thorin's throat. His face contorted with his efforts from one of absolute all encompassing fury to complete ecstasy as he finally reached his peak. He threw his head back and sat up screaming, in rage or in pleasure, Thorin couldn't know. The elf's body pulsed in waves as he was overcome with his climax. 

Thorin couldn't help but be a little awestruck by this odd beautiful thing, nearly glowing above him. 

The dwarf quickly schooled his face into a look of passive indifference as the elf leveled him with a fiery gaze, panting lightly.

“Do not think this changes anything,” Thranduil said warningly.  
“No, it doesn't,” Thorin spat back at him.

The two quickly dressed in silence, shooting each other glares every so often. 

When they were finished, Thranduil shoved the dwarf in front of him and hauled him off to the dungeon himself.

“Go ahead and rot. If you care to have another audience with me, let your guard know. Maybe you'll change your mind about our deal,” Thranduil gave Thorin a heated, hateful look and left the dwarf to his fate.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be kind. Thank you for reading!


End file.
